Pariahs
by darthsquirt2
Summary: An apostate blood mage who lost everyone she ever cared for through her arrogance and folly, and an elven outcast who has met with nothing but hardship and failure as she attempts to return her people to glory. Both have fully embraced the power inherent inside them, and have lost much, and gained nothing for it, save each other. But that is enough. Post A New Path.


I walk through the half rotten door frame after the petite form of my lover into the house she still owned after all these years. As I watch the door shut, my feet stepped across the floorboards that had been so soaked with blood over the years and not even termites saw fit to nest in them. It was only then, that I made my way into the next room where Merrill stood in front of a large mirror, fractured down the centre.

"Oh Hawke!" She gasped, turning toward me.

I stood before her, wondering what I could do, if anything, to detract from the pain I knew she felt. The guilt. Guilt over another's actions. Her foolish Keeper's infernal meddling, and her clan's stubborn blindness. Blindness I've come to equate to many elves. But not her. Never her.

"Did you see the way they…how they looked at me? My whole clan…Mythal, they…they wanted too…too…"

At the moment, I feel powerless. I feel angry. Furious that her clan, her _family, _could be so blind. So damn foolish. They hurt my love, and for that, I would like nothing more than to bring them as much pain as they bought to her.

"What if…what if they're right?" She shudders. "What if I was wrong all this time? Mythal'Anaste, how could I have been such a-"

I don't let her finish that thought. Instead, I pull my arms tight around her, hoping she can take comfort, and maybe just a bit of anger, from me. At the moment, I would like nothing more than to cut open both of our palms and join together. To get lost in her life essence, and to allow her to lose herself in mine. Small force in the back of my mind reminds that this carries with it, as always, chance of disease or infection. Thankfully, because of my Bethany's efforts all those years ago, I am at the least proficient healer. It strikes me that she would never have understood what I want at the moment. She never could recognize the beauty of the power inherent in our own blood. Not the way I do. Not the way I know Merrill does.

"H-H-Hawke." She sobs, and only then did I notice the tears welling in her eyes. "The way they looked at me...It was like i was their worst nightmare. They just don't understand." She paused, taking a shuddering gasp. "What if they're right, what if I made a mistake?"

My anger doubles, but I control it. For her. Anything for her.

"Do you think the citizens of Kirkwall would still hero worship me as they do if they knew what I really was? An apostate and a blood mage? In a position of authority, untouchable by the templars? They probably have nightmares about that kind of thing. Just as you know that I would never validate their fears, just as I know you would never do anything that might hurt your clan."

I cannot bear to see her like this, in such pain. I do not pity the Sabre clan, as they must manage the coming years without a Keeper. Without magic. I have Merrill. Not them. And I will make sure she is happy.

"They may not understand," I whisper. "But when we fix the Eluvian, without the demon, the rest of the Dalish will. You will be a hero amongst your people Merrill, I know it."

She looks up at me with shining eyes, her tears momentarily forgotten. "Only if you are as well, Ma'vehnan." She breathes dreamily. "You have done more for me, for the people, then we deserve."

"Anything for you, Emma sa'lath." I murmur, running an idle hand through her hair.

She sighs, content, and at that moment, so am I. It lasts only for a minute before I feel the desire well up inside me again. I lean back, looking into her eyes, for any sign of hesitation. She knows what I want, and I know, feel, she wants it too. She nods, imperceptibly, and grudgingly lets go, her hands sliding along my arms as she steps backward. In unison, we raise small, matching blades. As one, we slash them across the open faces of our opposite hands. The pain is tempered by years of practicing this particular motion. With breathless anticipation, I grasp her freely bleeding hand in mine, and allow myself to get lost in her. Everything that she is. Everything that she loves me with. In that moment, I am content. I have her. She has me. At the rest of the world will burn before I give that up.

* * *

Review here if you're going to, while the story is fresh in your mind.

A/N: Okay, Bioware seriously needs to hire a voice actor for their male Player Characters that doesn't sound like a complete ponce. I have nothing against Mark Meer, but Jennifer Hale is far superior as a voice actor. And even in Dragon Age 2; Jo Wyatt beats Nicholas Bourton. Why couldn't Brandon Keener (Garrus) have voiced male Hawke? I'd really like to play a male character without the sub par dialogue delivery breaking immersion. On that note, this story features my favorite Hawke. Unlike all my friends who also play Dragon Age, I have no qualms about playing Blood Mage (though I am the kind of person who routinely plays lawful evil necromancers in D&D). This story is inspired by the differences between the Friendship and Rivalry character arcs Merrill has, and how a Blood Mage Hawke could've pushed her towards embracing that aspect of herself.

This one is dedicated to suziegon, an all around wonderful person with great taste in games.


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